Thicker Than Blood: through the eyes of Mark
by dabblemills
Summary: Chapter 4 up! A look at the precious friendships of the bohemians through the jaded eyes of Mark. Each chapter looks at a different person in their tight group of friends and shows the man behind the camera. Please r&r.
1. Favorite Puppet

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rent or any of the characters associated with it. Please r&r. NO FLAMES. Certain lines from this story are taken from Matt Caplan lyrics from songs "Sideways" and "Favorite Puppet". Also not mine yet oO. This is dedicated to MY wonderful friends who make stories like this come alive.

-This story is a look at life through the eyes of Mark. Each chapter will concern a different friend of Mark's, comparing past experiences with thoughts of his present. Enjoy.

**-THICKER THAN BLOOD-**

…the world through Mark Cohen's eyes  
  
-Chapter 1: Favorite Puppet-  
  
Capturing the perfect image of New York City is nearly impossible. In a city where each and every person has a story, has a dream, has hopes and regrets, it is absurd to think one frame could say it all. This has become apparent to me more recently then ever. I, the insignificant filmmaker, have never been one for connecting. Call it what you will, but I always much preferred watching those I love live than actually step into the world myself. It was always so much easier to see everything through my friends' eyes. Am I scared? Of course I am. I used to believe people were nothing more than machines, faceless robots that were programmed to go through the same day to day system. I used to believe so many things. Although I now see how immature my ideals were as a young bohemian in the city of all cities, I cannot help but notice the ironic truth to those very theories when I observe my friends.   
  
Maureen Johnson is truly a creature of habit. When first getting to know her, one might think she is as spontaneous as they come. However, tolerating her as long as I have, I can safely say that every dramatic twist and turn she makes in her life is based on her own internal agenda. Let's begin with her relationships. Let's rewind time to take a look at any particular night I spent with Maureen way back when I was her favorite puppet.   
  
"I'm so sorry, Pookie." she'd say with her adorably grotesque pout. This is how it always started. It was a painful guessing game each time I had to figure out exactly what, no, who she had done to break my heart. But it only shows how much of a coward and a fool I was to forgive her each time.   
  
"I'm through with this, Maureen." I'd tell her. No matter how many times I said those words, they always took little to no effect. She knew all too well she had me wrapped around her little finger. I can't even begin to count the many times I held back burning tears that threatened to spill everything I was out for her.   
  
"But I love you." she'd whisper in my ear. That's all she ever needed to do to get me crawling back to her. Knowing that defeat was accepted, she'd kiss my cheek and leave. Without a shred of comfort, I'd imagine myself without her. I knew it still went on without her, but I wasn't brave enough to face loneliness. This was the reality I turned from almost every week with her.   
  
True, I more than just revealed my own need for my pathetic little life to follow a habitual calendar as well as Maureen's. But that's life, isn't it? We all need to feel that security in ourselves that helps us press on day by day by day. Even now, after all is said and done, Maureen still continues her heart-wrenching games. The only thing that has changed our the faces. Now it's Joanne's turn to dance to please the puppeteer. I feel hollow as I watch Maureen slowly convert her victim to worshipping her. If only Joanne knew what hell she was in store for, maybe she'd turn away from the irresistible drama queen. Who am I kidding?  
  
Perhaps I'm being too critical. Maureen always has and always will have her amazing qualities that she also uses to keep a structural balance in her life. Why else do people fall for her so hard in such a minuscule time? Above all things, her passion is what drives her inner beauty. She takes deeply to heart every injustice done upon humanity. I've always admired the way she sticks up for the underdog. No matter how bitter I feel towards her conniving nature, I know deep down somewhere under her porcelain skin is a wonderfully bright and caring girl wanting to be free. That very girl came out last Christmas. I remember every little detail of that frozen night: Each strum of the guitar as Roger sang his bittersweet song to a dying Mimi, the trembling hands of Collins as he dialed 911 on the telephone, and, most distinctly, the calming and soothing words Maureen spoke to the young girl. My heart was rent as I stood idly beside her.   
  
I guess we all must linger from our ruts now and then.


	2. Just Here to the Left of You

**Thanks:**A very large thanks goes to those of you who have taken the time to review my story. I'd also like to thank my wonderful friends and family for making each and every story come alive.

**-Chapter 2:** Just here to the left of you-  
  
Nothing shocks me in this world. I remember, as a young child, I used to put the same jigsaw puzzle together time and time again. It was a very large puzzle that when assembled correctly showed an image of a knight in shining armor rescuing a damsel in distress. I'd spend all night putting it together, moving the familiar pieces into their complimentary groups. Afterwards I would stare at the finished product for hours. There was something so wonderful about the heroic knight. I wanted to be him. I wanted to save everyone I loved from harm. When I was at that young age, I wanted to fight off dragons and monsters with a mighty sword and be loved and adored by my friends. Nowadays, I fight off the worst monster of all. I fight the AIDS virus to save my friends, who, in return, show little to no appreciation. Had I known the price for glory when I was so young and naïve, would I have taken the same road? Most likely.  
  
Why do any of us choose the courses of life we take? At one time or another, every last one of us takes a final look back to what might have been. When Alexi Darling tried to reel me into her sleazy world of sell-out showbiz, I could have taken the job. As I sit here, I am wasting valuable time in my life. These precious minutes I'll never gain back. Sometimes I hate my camera. I look at it as a person, representing everyone and everything that has jaded me. I've spent half of my life capturing bits and pieces of memories in it, hoping to one day support myself with the quality of my films. But I know, somehow I know so well, that it will never happen.   
  
"No other course. No other way. No day but today."   
  
How our little Mimi can preach those powerful words I'll never know. Her life has never been an easy one. To be honest, I really didn't like her at first. With all of the emotional turmoil Roger was in that fateful Christmas, the last thing I believed any of us needed was a heroine-addicted exotic dancer making everything even more complicated. Watching the effect she had on Roger made me almost jealous. He openly invited her into his twisted world and showed her a side of him he never showed anyone. Not even me. After all of the years I had spent keeping him alive, he wouldn't give me more than an irritated grumble when I tried to strike up a conversation with him. Then in walks this adorable brunette into our apartment and his life. It was as if I never existed. It took me an entire year to get over my hostility towards her. It took her being on her deathbed for me to really read between the lines.   
  
"I have always loved you. You can see it in my eyes." Roger's voice sang gruffly as he chocked on his tears. To see Mimi die, to watch the pain in Roger's eyes as he witnessed the love of his life passing on, was almost too much to bear. That's when the realization came to me. Mimi was the best thing to have ever happened to Roger. She was not about to willingly leave him alone and heartbroken in this world, like April did. She wasn't choosing to die at that moment. During that past year, something had changed within Roger. Mimi had made the old Roger come out. I hardly believed that personality of Roger even existed after April's death. As angered as I was to have not been the person to bring the real Roger Davis out, I began feeling an immense gratitude towards Mimi. Thank God she survived that bitter night. It was that bright eyed little girl that changed everything . From that Christmas on, things changed between Mimi and I.  
  
I recall one evening after she and Roger had a particularly gruesome fight (again with the habits). As always, Roger was the one to trudge out of the loft, slamming the door behind him. I was sitting on a stool in the kitchen, reading over a script I was trying out , when I saw Mimi fall onto the couch in sobs. Generally, I was not one to involve myself on their relationship woes. But on that particular occasion, I felt the inner urge to console her. She looked so shocked yet so relieved to see me sit down next to her on our tattered couch. She wiped her eyes quickly and sniffed as she began to speak.  
  
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" she asked. I couldn't help but notice the bitter tone of her voice blended with the random sniffling as she fought back her tears.   
  
"Why would I ever think that?" I was apprehensive as to where the conversation was heading. She seemed to be able to read into people all too well. Those crystal eyes stared into my soul and immediately I was an open book.  
  
"Mark, you're the only one who sees the truth in all of us. You know. You've always known. You knew the second I came into Roger's life that it could never be."   
  
Having no real reply to her straightforward statement, I sat quietly and nodded. The air supply in the room seemed to have turned completely off. I found myself struggling to breathe as a weighted silence fell over us both. In what could only have been minutes but seemed like centuries, Mimi spoke up once more.  
  
"You love him." she said. What power each word she spoke had.  
  
"I do." I mumbled. There was nothing I wanted more than to escape that very moment. Finally, someone was actually connecting with me, and it scared me more than anything I had ever experienced before. I looked at her, hoping to find a little solace in those eyes that Roger held so dearly in his heart. In a New York minute, her gaze met mine. So much more was said in that silence then all words ever spoken. Her lips curved into an comforting smile and she placed a small hand on top of mine.  
  
"He loves you too, you know. I know it's hard for him to express his feelings, but I want you to know he loves you very much." she said. Her tiny cold fingers entwined with mine. Without knowing it, I had consumed an entire year of my life loathing the one person that cared enough to understand me.  
  
Roger opened the door before I had a chance to thank her for simple yet caring words. He stared intensely at the ground as he muttered a quick apology. Although there was still a red hot surge of anger coursing through her body from Roger, Mimi was quick to forgive and forget. She wiped away the last few tears as she pulled Roger into a tight embrace. I looked to them both, wondering how their problems could have been solved in such a small amount of time. Weren't they still infuriated with one another? Roger began walking with Mimi back towards their bedroom when Mimi looked back to me.  
  
"No day but today." she mouthed.  
  
No one has ever understood me quite like Mimi. It came as such a surprise at first, feeling such a deep bond with someone I had hated. Now that I think about it, it's not so absurd. Everyone's always known there was something incredibly special about Mimi, I was just lucky enough to have had a first hand experience of that something. It doesn't shock me. Nothing really shocks me in this world.


	3. Louder Than Words

Read: The "cages or wings" dialogue is from Jonathon Larson's "Louder Than Words" from Tick Tick Boom.

Thanks: To you wonderful reviewers and a special thanks to Suzy. Thanks for believing in my work and reading this without knowing a thing about Rent :). Ily.

**-Chapter 3:** Louder Than Words-  
  
Love is the greatest four letter word in the English language. It is, however, dominated by the worst word: hate. Think about each person living and breathing on the face of this planet. Generally, when a person strikes up a conversation, it's more or less directed at whatever is ailing them at the current moment. Does anyone ever call someone up and say, "I really love my apartment! I have clean dishes, a working telephone, and a stove! Boy, I'm one of the luckiest people on the earth!"? No, of course no one does. Instead, it is replaced with, "I hate this shithole of an apartment. The dishwasher isn't working, my telephone bill is overdue, and my stove doesn't cook properly. I hate my life.". Why are we all so negative? Don't think I'm preaching, I'm really not. I am just as bad as the next man. It just seems that we build our lives up for so much more than being unappreciative of the "little" things in life.   
  
There are, as always, a few exceptions. No one I have ever met has ever been more wise and loving when it comes to this world than Collins. This, however, came about more solidly after the death of Angel. He realized that he needed to take over where his beautiful Angel left off. I suppose, at one time or another in each of our lives, we realize that we cannot live life through our memories. We need to live in the moment, make our own memories. It's amazing, when I walk down the street with Collins, he seems so reserved and quiet. Then it happens. A loudmouthed guy humiliates his girlfriend in the middle of the sidewalk. A bitter mother reprimands her innocent daughter with a slap across the face. Maybe a young employee is being burned by his new boss just from forgetting to add an extra pepperoni to the deep dish pizza. For whatever reason each injustice is served, Collins always feels the need to add his subtle but powerful perspective.   
  
"Cages or wings, which do you prefer?" Collins asks. The reaction is always the same. Each person stops their momentary explosion to give him a 'what the hell are you talking about?' look. He only smiles in return.   
  
"Ask the birds."  
  
As he begins to walk around the corner and out of their lives, he gives them one last profound line.   
  
"Actions speak louder than words."  
  
That's all it takes. One little line to completely change a person. I wonder when Collins came to this conclusion. Probably in the arms of the person that changed him. I can't imagine anywhere else where a person can have such a deep understanding of one's self than wrapped in the embrace of a lover. Too bad people can't appreciate loving relationships enough to stay together. People are frightened of such a bond. After all, we have worked ourselves so far in life, why waste it on someone else, right? A cold relationship with little to no passion and absolutely no communication has a longer life than a sacred marriage. And why is that? Why do we stay with lovers who we know down deep just aren't right? I know I've been more or less a loner since Maureen left me. I try to hide any and all loneliness from those surrounding me. My priority has always been to my sick friends, mainly Roger. I need to be the strong and accessible one for when the worst happens. God, I can't even think about the worst. It's just too negative.   
  
One would assume, looking at Collins' age while knowing of his condition, that he would be the deepest, darkest depressed one of us all. Somehow he's always managed to look towards the better. He's dying. His lover has already passed on, leaving him more or less alone in the world, and he is the oldest one of the group. What does he have to look positively to?   
  
"I am the luckiest man on earth." he said to me once on a lunch break at the Life. Without waiting for my input, he continued. "I wish everyone could have such an amazing relationship like I had with Angel. She was truly Godsend."  
  
His eyes shifted quickly back and forth, almost as though he was fighting back tears. A typical person might see this as sadness at the thought of his Angel, but I knew in the back my mind that it was overwhelming happiness. Angel never really left Collins. They'd always be together, even if separated by death. Angel lived and breathed in every action of Collins and they were, without a doubt, the most amazing couple.   
  
"What about you, Mark?" he always seems so concerned about me, which I never understand. I am the healthy one.   
  
"When are you going to give love a try? You can't keep hiding behind your camera. You have so much to offer." he sipped his coffee as he waited for my reply. I knew all too well that this was an argument I would never win, so I gave in.  
  
"I'll think about it." I replied, sipping my hot tea. I wanted to dive into that cup of tea. I wanted to escape those questions and hide myself and Collins from the truth. Collins only chuckled in that low, throaty tone of his.  
  
"Actions speak louder than words."  
  
How is it that he can always say what you don't want but need to hear? I always want to argue my point with him, really make him see my perspective. I never seem to find the words. It just never seems worth it. Life is just too short to waste over something so miniscule. He's my friend and I love him. Besides, each morning, love is a much greater word to wake up to then hate.


	4. Faces Change, People don't

AN: Thanks so much to everyone who commented! I love you all! I hope you are all enjoying this story. I should tell you, however, that I'm saving Angel and Roger for last. I think they deserve to have the most written about them. So sorry if you've been waiting to read their parts. Special thanks to the-Fraulein, your stories are so wonderful and a great inspiration to my work. And, of course, thanks to my wonderful friends for making the friendships I write about come alive.

-**Chapter 4**: Faces Change, People don't-   
  
Faces may change, but generally nothing changes no matter where one goes in life. I remember when I was only ten and my father first brought our family to New York for a "family" trip. That was back in a time when I idolized my father as though he was Superman. In my eyes, he truly was. Anyway, one morning my father woke me up very early in my small hotel bed shared with my sister, Cindy.   
  
"Come on, scout. Let's take a walk." he said to me in that deep Jewish voice. I smiled and turned to wake my sister up, but my father stopped my hand.  
  
"Just you and me, scout." he said.  
  
No words can explain how great I felt that morning. I never had spent alone time with my father before then. As we walked down the already crowded streets of Manhattan, I took notice to each and every small store we passed. This was no ordinary street. This was a street filled with promise and opportunity. This was a street with no end. What was even more exciting was the fact that this was but one street in the entire city. Imagine the possibilities. Catching up to my father's large footsteps, I confided in him.  
  
"I want to live here someday." I said, assuming it was innocent enough. The immediate look of disgust on his face made me feel humiliated to have even opened my mouth.  
  
"No, Scout." he said. "You don't want to live here. It's great for a vacation, but it's no Scarsdale."  
  
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. No Scarsdale? Was he kidding? Don't get me wrong, Scarsdale is an OK little town, but it certainly is no paradise. Everyone knows everyone there. If you even cough the wrong way the entire population knows about it by the next day. So there I was, an impressionable age of ten, already beginning to realize there was something seriously wrong in my father. New York was the center of the universe.  
  
"This city is dead." he mumbled before looking away from me.   
  
Since then, I've matured a bit. I may have gained a bit of sarcasm during my life, but deep down I'm still the same dreamer with a secret love obsession for New York City. This city knocks the shit out of me, sure, but it's always been more than worth it. Here I am free. At least free from types like my close-minded father. Or am I?  
  
"Bohemia is dead." Benny mumbled much like someone I knew all too well on Christmas Eve a few years back. It is still a shock to see someone who was once so committed to his art abandon everything for a feeling of security. It's as if when he moved out of our humble loft his heart died. He certainly is not the fun-loving Benny I became so close to back in our days at Brown. To a certain degree, I've always blamed Allison. She taught him that nothing mattered outside of wealth and property. It's hard to remember the good 'ol Benny, the one with a compassionate heart and talent beyond comparison. A look back through time to our old college days reveals a side of Benny most will never see.  
  
"Where is my dress shirt?" Benny asked me while busied ourselves with packing.   
  
"I don't know. What are you going to do with a dress shirt your first few months in New York anyway?" I asked.   
  
"Well, for my banquet of course." he said with a smug expression on his face.  
  
"What banquet?"  
  
"The banquet thrown for me when I become rich and famous and every single woman in the city wants to marry me." he laughed. I tried to hold back my smile, but even I had to give in.  
  
"You, rich and famous?" I laughed. "Since when did you ever want that?" I sat beside him on his bed beside the open suitcase and folded clothes.   
  
"Ah, you know I don't care about things like that. But it wouldn't hurt, would it Marky?" he joked as he messed up my hair and glasses. I pushed him off but my smile never faded.  
  
"It'd be nice, sure, but it's not what I want. I want people to see my films and really connect to them. I'd never sell out for money. It's so,… so petty and superficial." I replied. Benny grew silent for a minute, looking away from me but at nothing in particular. He breathed in a deep sigh and turned onto his back.  
  
"Are you scared?" he asked in a barely audible whisper.  
  
"Of what? New York? Our futures?" I asked. Another moment of silence ensued. Then I heard him whisper again.  
  
"Everything."  
  
I looked beside me and really noticed the serious look on his face. His eyes were fixed towards the ceiling and his breathing came a bit ragged as his chest rose and fell.  
  
"No, I'm not." I answered honestly. "I love making films, and I have nothing to worry about. It's not like I'll ever be alone. I always have you."  
  
"Yeah," he interjected. "Plus we'll have our other roommates there too. Collins and,… uh,…"  
  
"Roger." I finished. He turned his head and his eyes locked with mine. There was a trust so real in his eyes, I knew no matter what I'd always be able to depend on him.  
  
"So what about you? Are you scared?" I asked. His eyes shut, contemplating his response.   
  
"Terrified."  
  
It's such a shame that Benny turned out the way he did. He had so much integrity and spirit. I know everyone else denies he even has a soul anymore, but I'll always have faith that he'll come back to his friends and ideals. He was once such an inspiration to me. Then again, so was my father. I guess nothing changes after all.


End file.
